[ Nebula's head dips as her mouth does a low bow. Uncomfortable is a word to describe this for the both of them. She has no regrets in saying anything she has - she'd say it again, if she had to - but she's uncomfortable with tenderness as a general rule. The vulnerability of admitting she cared about or liked him another, even if they both knew it. ]
[ Even if them being a family to each other had been cemented when Stark and she had arrived back on Earth all those years ago (without Gamora's interference, or perhaps in ways because of it). Neither of them are the kind to speak those words, or if they were the kind it was a part of them shattered long ago. Shattered so deeply that the pieces weren't all back together, they might never be even as they tried to put them together. ]
[ So she feels him come in, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't look up even if she has nothing to busy herself with to pretend she doesn't notice - because she does notice - in this room that's too empty and new. Hers, but not really. Not yet (maybe never). He starts and stops and she stiffens, the only sign she's listening. She waits. Lets him formulate what he wants to say and — ]
[ — Swallows thickly. ]
[ There's a silence as he finishes. As her heart betrays her in her chest. Once, letting the soft flutter of - hope? - something that thrummed in it she'd call a mistake. She'd try to forcibly rip out and stomp on the ground, a weakness. It'd get her killed one day. Maybe it would one day, if she gave it away too freely, but this is him. This is Rocket. And if there's anyone who wasn't Gamora who'd say such a thing she'd believe... it was him. ]
[ A different her would be alarmed at how easily she trusted, believed, and agreed with him. This her is... stunned, frozen because even if it's Rocket no one's ever said they're glad she's anything. For so much of her life, she was a disappointment and her coming back alive nearly just as much. If she'd died in battle, it'd be better than her coming back - that's what she thought sometimes. ]
[ Most days she hadn't disagreed. ]
[ She almost forgets to say anything, in the way her heart, mind, and tongue freezes. In the way she can't give her gratefulness for the words, she gives a sharp nod of her head. Tries to find what she wants - should - say and after a moment the words come out gruffly: ]
Shit planet or not, I wouldn't abandon you.
[ It's not quite what she means. Or maybe it is. She doesn't have a choice - neither of them do - but she means the intonation. Means she doesn't regret it even if she glances away once more and shakes her head: ]
That's not what family does.
[ A lesson she learned from Drax. Unironically, Drax. ]
no subject
[ Even if them being a family to each other had been cemented when Stark and she had arrived back on Earth all those years ago (without Gamora's interference, or perhaps in ways because of it). Neither of them are the kind to speak those words, or if they were the kind it was a part of them shattered long ago. Shattered so deeply that the pieces weren't all back together, they might never be even as they tried to put them together. ]
[ So she feels him come in, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't look up even if she has nothing to busy herself with to pretend she doesn't notice - because she does notice - in this room that's too empty and new. Hers, but not really. Not yet (maybe never). He starts and stops and she stiffens, the only sign she's listening. She waits. Lets him formulate what he wants to say and — ]
[ — Swallows thickly. ]
[ There's a silence as he finishes. As her heart betrays her in her chest. Once, letting the soft flutter of - hope? - something that thrummed in it she'd call a mistake. She'd try to forcibly rip out and stomp on the ground, a weakness. It'd get her killed one day. Maybe it would one day, if she gave it away too freely, but this is him. This is Rocket. And if there's anyone who wasn't Gamora who'd say such a thing she'd believe... it was him. ]
[ A different her would be alarmed at how easily she trusted, believed, and agreed with him. This her is... stunned, frozen because even if it's Rocket no one's ever said they're glad she's anything. For so much of her life, she was a disappointment and her coming back alive nearly just as much. If she'd died in battle, it'd be better than her coming back - that's what she thought sometimes. ]
[ Most days she hadn't disagreed. ]
[ She almost forgets to say anything, in the way her heart, mind, and tongue freezes. In the way she can't give her gratefulness for the words, she gives a sharp nod of her head. Tries to find what she wants - should - say and after a moment the words come out gruffly: ]
Shit planet or not, I wouldn't abandon you.
[ It's not quite what she means. Or maybe it is. She doesn't have a choice - neither of them do - but she means the intonation. Means she doesn't regret it even if she glances away once more and shakes her head: ]
That's not what family does.
[ A lesson she learned from Drax. Unironically, Drax. ]